Plagiarism Benefits No One
by Velveteen Nightmare
Summary: Marius steals Jehan's poetry and passes it off as his own. Pure insanity. Please review. Finished 1-21
1. Marius

Author's Note: I did not write Les Miserables. I do not own these characters. I hope someone finds this funny, but I fully expect you to find it mediocre.   
  
Marius walked home whistling happily. He had just had lunch with Courfeyrac, and had managed to sneak out of the café soon after some of Courfeyrac's friends had arrived. Now, the poetic shy one seemed to be an all right fellow, but that other one was just plain rude. He had poked Marius in the ribs and said "Corsica!" every few minutes, laughing hysterically. Wasn't his name Bahorel?  
  
Marius was happy that he had managed to get away unnoticed. Courfeyrac was probably going to be miffed at him because of this, but Marius's ribs were beginning to ache. Besides, he had already decided that he was going to spend an hour of brooding about his beloved Ursula later that afternoon.   
  
When he finally reached his dingy apartment, he decided to study. He had planned on trying to at least get some studying done during his lunch, but that plan failed miserably. Sitting down on the edge of his bed he opened up his notebook and prepared to re-read the notes he had taken previously.  
  
Marius's eyes widened. The contents of the notebook were not his law-school notes, but various snatches of poetry, verses, and random thoughts about love and life in general. He flipped to the front cover of the notebook and read the signature. "Jean Prouvaire." Marius read the name slowly. Then, he flipped idly though the pages. The verse wasn't half bad. It was quite good actually, the sort you could give to a girl.   
  
Marius was struck by an idea. Eponine had just that morning given him the address of his beloved. Marius had been wracking his brain trying to find some way of letting her know he loved her. Grabbing some sheets of paper from his desk he began to copy select verses word for word. He added one or two about seeing her in the gardens with her father so she would know it was from him. Marius grinned wickedly. What an ingenious plan! Girls loved deep poetic sorts of man...Marius may have been deep in some respects, but he certainly wasn't poetic. Marius's one and only poem had begun as thus:  
  
"The stars are rather pretty  
And my bed sheets are gritty."  
  
Giddy with satisfaction he hurried off to place the loose sheets of paper where his angel was bound to find them. On his way out of the building he tossed Jean Prouvaire's notebook into a heap of rubbish. 


	2. Panic

"All right, Jehan. Breathe!" Bahorel said starting to feel panicked. "You're starting to look like how Joly says he feels."   
  
"Notebook...." Jean Prouvaire said, obviously panicked.   
  
Courfeyrac laughed. "Come on, Prouvaire. You know that Marius will return it right back to you. It is just an honest mistake."  
  
"I suppose that is what happened. I just don't want anyone reading it." Jean Prouvaire sighed.   
  
Courfeyrac shrugged. "Then why don't we go and try to catch up with him? He's probably in his room now panicked beyond all reason that his law notes are gone."   
  
Bahorel sniggered. "I like how he wrote 'Corsica' and 'Long live the Emperor' every few pages." Courfeyrac chuckled as Bahorel pointed out two instances of each in the book.  
  
"You shouldn't laugh at him. Notebooks are highly private, personal items." Prouvaire scolded.   
  
"You're just scared senseless as to what his reaction will be when he reads your verse." Bahorel said, standing up in preparation to go.  
  
"So what if I am? I don't let just anybody read what I write. There are some highly personal-"  
  
Bahorel batted his eyes at Jehan. "Verses for your lady love?" He cooed as the three walked down the street.   
  
"Oh lay off, Bahorel." Courfeyrac said. "At least Jehan didn't write 'Ursula' and surround it by little hearts and flow-" Courfeyrac grinned. "Hey, her name is Ursula."   
  
"You're right." Bahorel grinned too. "Now I have more ammunition for Bonaparte boy."   
  
"Well this is where he lives. Ye gods, look at this place." Courfeyrac said wrinkling his nose. "Poor Marius." He turned to look at Jehan who was picking something out of a heap of rubbish. "Whatchya got there?"  
  
"My notebook." Jehan said holding up the dripping book by a corner. He had a strange mixture of horror and hurt on his face.   
  
"What the devil is it doing there?" Bahorel asked handing Prouvaire a handkerchief to wipe it off with.   
  
"Obviously Marius threw it there." Annoyance was beginning to shine in the usual amiable poet's eyes.   
  
"Oh come now." Courfeyrac said in mild defense of Marius, "He could have dropped it by accident, or it could have been stolen from him.... I daresay there might be thieves here in this building. Ugh."  
  
"Maybe you are right, Courfeyrac." Jehan said slowly as he wiped off some slime from his precious notebook.   
  
"Awww, thanks a lot Courfeyrac. I wanted to see Jehan beat the snot out of Marius." Bahorel said hitting Courfeyrac on the back.  
  
Jehan looked amused. "Why would I want to do that?" He laughed at the idea, and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "No harm done, Bahorel. I think I'll take a walk before going home. I need to air out this poor book."  
  
"We'll see you later then, Jehan." Courfeyrac said as he turned to leave. Bahorel followed on his heels muttering something about seeing Marius beat up.  
  
"Poor Bahorel." Prouvaire though. "So violent." 


	3. Cosette

Cosette pressed the sheets of paper to her heart. What a lovely poetic soul he had! Enraptured she read some of the beautiful verses out loud. She pressed them to her heart again and read the whole letter aloud.   
  
There was a rustling in the tree that hung over the garden wall. This was followed by a sharp cry of pain as someone fell out of it.   
  
Cosette looked at the prone figure of a young man and did what any red-blooded sheltered 19th century young woman would do. She screamed her pretty little lungs out.   
  
"Shhhh! Please, I beg of you!" The young man was trying to get up. "I just wanted to know...where did you get those...ah um...where did you get those verses?"  
  
Cosette blinked in surprise. For a brigand he seemed very polite. "My own true love gave them to me!" She said as she waving the papers around in a grand gesture.   
  
"Ah. Marius, gave them to you?" He brushed some dirt and leaves off of his clothing.  
  
"Oh, I don't know what is name is." Cosette replied.  
  
The young man blinked. "You don't? And yet you are madly in love with him? Huh. That's really strange. He seemed to know your name..."   
  
"He is so mysterious and deep!" Cosette sighed.  
  
"Yes, quite like a puddle." The young man muttered. "He's a plagiarist you know." He said in a louder tone of voice.  
  
"Oh lord!" Cosette pressed her hand to her mouth. "How many men has he killed?"  
  
"What?!" The young man looked befuddled. "A plagiarist is someone who steals-"  
  
"Oh lord! What all has he stolen?!" Cosette wailed.  
  
"No, no, you didn't let me finish, a plagiarist is someone-" Here the young man stopped and gently placed his hand over Cosette's mouth. "---Who steals someone else's work and passes it off as their own. You know, like poetry." He removed his hand and watched the young woman carefully.   
  
"Oh. Well that isn't too bad then." Cosette said.  
  
"Isn't too bad?! He stole my poetry! He wrote it out in his own hand and gave it to a girl that I have never even met, someone who doesn't even know his name, and passes it off as something that came from his soul---" The young man paused and then blushed in mid rant. "I'm sorry. My name is Jean, but my friends call me Jehan."  
  
"I'm Cosette."   
  
"Pretty name. Anyway, I just thought you'd like to know, Cosette." He muttered. "Well, I'd better go before your father comes out and kills me like a dog in your garden."   
  
"Oh, he's not home. He's a on a walk." Cosette said cheerfully, seeing nothing wrong in informing at strange man that she was alone and unprotected.   
  
Jehan smiled politely as he hoisted himself over the garden wall, and landed gracefully on the sidewalk. He walked off in a hurry. He had someone he needed to visit. 


	4. I'm with Joly

Marius was whistling happily as he went into the Café Musian. He stepped through the door of the back room, and was promptly lifted by the collar. "Plagiarist."   
  
Bahorel threw down his dominos. "Prouvaire is going to beat the snot out of Marius!" He said joyfully.   
  
"I-I-I-I" Marius was obviously not expecting this sort of greeting.  
  
"Break his nose!" Bahorel cheered.   
  
"I'm not going to break his nose, I'm going to break his neck!" Jehan snapped. Two seconds later he was attempting to do just that, while Marius yelped like a wounded puppy.   
  
Courfeyrac's eyes were as wide as saucers. So was everyone else's. None the Friends of the ABC had ever seen Jehan even mildly peeved, let alone murderous. Courfeyrac ran over and tried to pull Jehan away from Marius.   
  
"Let me wring that plagiaristic neck of his!" Jehan growled, struggling to get back at thrashing Marius. Marius whimpered.  
  
"I didn't mean any harm...I just copied a few...pages."   
  
"Idiot! Don't you know when you use someone else's work you are supposed to give them credit for it?!"   
  
"Yeah, Marius." Bahorel said laughing so hard tears ran down his cheeks.  
  
"Of course I know that. But since I was giving it to a girl I didn't want to have to quote you-" He broke off in a gasp. Jehan had gotten away from Courfeyrac and was trying to kill Marius again. "I swear to the heavens, Prouvaire, you ought to hear my poetry, its horrible. Would someone mind helping me out here?!"   
  
Enjolras chose this moment to enter the backroom. His eyes widened at the sight of Marius cowering under a table, with Jean Prouvaire trying to throttle him as best as he could reach. "Jean Prouvaire!" He barked.   
  
Jehan froze. His ears began to burn and his hands dropped limply at his sides. "Sorry Enjolras. Sorry Marius."   
  
Enjolras stared a few minutes longer and then went into the back of the room to talk with Combeferre. He gave another bewildered glance at Jehan before continuing his conversation.   
  
Jehan bit his lip and helped Marius to his feet. "I am sorry." He muttered. "I get a little defensive sometimes."  
  
Marius dusted off his trousers. "That's okay. I just couldn't understand why you were so upset over some mediocre poet-"  
  
Jean Prouvaire punched Marius so hard the poor boy lost consciousness.  
  
"Whoa. Remind me never to critique your work, Jehan." Joly said.   
  
"Jehan!" Courfeyrac cried, "What on earth were you thinking?"  
  
"I'm thinking that if I'm good enough to be plagiarized, I'm a darned sight better than 'mediocre'." Jehan replied, and stepping over the prone form of Marius he left the café.   
Enjolras poked at Marius with the toe of his boot. "Why couldn't someone have done this when he was raving about Corsica?"  
  
Bahorel grinned. "I'm such a good influence." 


	5. Enjolras Mad & Bahorel Plotting

Several days later, Marius had healed from his wounds, both physical and emotional. He even felt well enough to have lunch with Enjolras and Courfeyrac. Jehan was avoiding him, feeling mortified that he had actually hurt Marius.   
  
After lunch was finished, Marius bid his friends a hearty farewell and left. Several minutes passed when Enjolras picked up his notebook and blanched. "This isn't my notebook." He said slowly.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
"And I'm the leader of a student rebellion." Marius said, cuddling up to Cosette on their bench.  
  
"Oooh, you're so dangerous." She cooed snuggling closer to him.  
  
"Would you like to hear an impassioned speech that I wrote?" He asked.   
  
Cosette looked into Marius's eyes and giggled. "You're such a naughty little plagiarist." And she kissed him.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
While Cosette and Marius were smooching, Enjolras had called together an emergency meeting of the Friends of the ABC.  
  
"This has really gone far enough." Enjolras said as he primed and loaded a double-barrel carbine.  
  
"While I'm in agreement with your stance on plagiarism," Combeferre said, "I fear you might be a bit...ah...carried away."  
  
Bahorel leaned back in his chair. "Although I am in total agreement with Enjolras's current plan, I feel there may be a simpler solution. Why don't we just let the inevitable occur?"   
  
"What do you mean, Bahorel?" Courfeyrac asked, debating within himself on whether or not he liked Marius well enough to warrant mustering up an attempt to relinquish Enjolras of his carbine.   
  
Bahorel propped his feet up on the table he was sitting at. "I mean, if Marius takes the next logical step in trying to impress his Ursula,"  
  
"Cosette." Jean Prouvaire corrected mildly.   
  
"Whatever. If he takes the next logical step in trying to impress his Cosette, that would be-"  
  
"Giving one of Enjolras' speeches?" Feuilly asked.  
  
"Yup." Bahorel said with a grin. "Marius gives one of those speeches in the Luxembourg garden and--voila, Marius is prison."   
  
Enjolras put down his carbine. "Hmmm...are you sure about this Bahorel?"  
  
"Nope." Bahorel said. "I think it's entirely possible that Marius might need a little encouragement." He smiled. "I think that Cosette might need to persuade him a bit."  
  
"But how is she going to do that?" Joly asked.  
  
"Someone will have to suggest it to her." Bahorel said.  
  
"Ok, I'll buy that, but who?" Joly queried.   
  
There was a slight pause as everyone looked at Jehan.  
  
Jean Prouvaire's eyes widened. "Oh, no. I already feel bad enough for...er..."  
  
"Beating him unconscious?" Bahorel offered.   
  
Prouvaire groaned and hid his head in his hands. "I feel horrible."  
  
Combeferre decided to try and help matters. "Yes, but you're a good fellow and since the good must be innocent, you must be innocent. Marius, being a plagiarist, is obviously not good fellow and therefore deserves to be punished in some matter."   
  
"Well..." Jehan was obviously not entirely convinced.  
  
"Besides," Combeferre said, "now it just isn't verse he's stealing. Now Marius is stealing the very essence of what our group stands for. Its as if Marius is claiming to be the leader of the Friends of the ABC!" Combeferre said, his voice rising. "Would you follow Marius Pontmercy into battle?"  
  
"Heck no!" Bahorel cried.  
  
"I didn't ask you," Combeferre snapped, throwing a pencil at Bahorel. "Jehan, would you follow Marius into battle?"  
  
"Well, no..."  
  
"And if he wants to pretend to be the mastermind of our ideas?" Combeferre asked.  
  
"Then I suppose it is logical that he be ready to face the consequences." Jehan said, somewhat dejectedly.  
  
"Don't look so glum!" Bahorel said, patting his friend on the back. "You get to meet with the lovely Cosette again, after all."  
  
Jean Prouvaire buried his head in his hands and whimpered. 


	6. Snugglebears?

Jean Prouvaire gritted his teeth and climbed over the wall and dropped into Cosette's garden. She was sitting on a small stone bench picking all of the petals off a flower. (Rather barbarically, Jehan thought.)   
  
"Oooh, hello again, Jehan."   
  
Prouvaire sighed. "Good evening, Cosette."   
  
Cosette giggled. "I've been getting gentlemen callers a lot lately."   
  
Jehan smiled weakly. "Marius sure is an interesting fellow, isn't he?"  
  
"He's dangerous and mysterious." Cosette informed him with a rapturous sigh.  
  
"You know, he's also a little shy." Jehan said.  
  
"Really?" Cosette gasped. Meeting with her behind her father's back so they could snuggle, didn't really strike her as being shy.   
  
"Oh, very." Jehan said, feeling his cheeks begin to burn. 'Curse irony!' he thought. "In fact he's too shy even to read some speeches he's written in public."  
  
Cosette gasped. "You mean those 'impassioned speeches' he wrote for the student rebellion he's the leader of?"  
  
"Yes." Jehan nearly choked on the word.   
  
"Do you think if I asked him, he'd recite one?" Cosette asked.  
  
"Say, I hadn't thought of that! Why don't you ask him to recite one at about 3 tomorrow in the Luxembourg gardens?" Jean Prouvaire suggested quickly.  
  
"What a great idea!" Cosette said, cheerfully. "I'll even ask my Papa to take me for a walk about that time. That way I can hear him myself."   
  
"Are you sure-"  
  
Cosette smiled. "I'm very sure."   
  
Jean Prouvaire nodded mechanically, a smile frozen on his face. "Well then...I guess I'll see you later." He tried to sprint for the garden wall.  
  
"Wait!" Cosette cried after him.  
  
Jehan froze and slowly turned around.   
  
"I liked how you metaphorically compared love and the sun in your poetry. You also have quite the way with imagery." She said smiling.   
  
Jehan gave her a lopsided shy grin. "I like how you know the difference between metaphor and simile." With that, he swung himself over the garden wall and landed on the sidewalk below.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Jean Valjean was grumbling as he took Cosette through the park. Why on earth she had insisted that she had to be walking around in the gardens at 3 o'clock precisely was beyond him. He frowned as he spied a knot of college students sniggering several yards away from another college student standing on a box.   
  
"Shall we compare you metaphorically to Marius?" A slightly older student said, batting his eyelashes at a flustered looking student with light brown hair.   
"Shhh!" A tall blonde student said firmly. "He's going to start."  
  
A boy that Valjean recognized to be 'the boy' was evidently preparing to make a speech. A frown twisted Valjean's face.  
  
Marius stood upon his small wooden box and cleared his throat. "Friends! Citizens all! We are now living in dark days, but there is hope on the horizon..."  
  
A tall man with muttonchops came rapidly up. The students stopped their sniggering and started pointing with horrified looks at Marius. "Tell me, is this the troublemaker?" The man asked Enjolras.   
  
"Yes, M. Javert." The young man said, nodding emphatically.   
  
Javert snatched Marius off of his box by the earlobe. "Come with me, rebel scum." He turned to the group of students and nodded curtly. "Thank you for your information."  
  
"My pleasure." Enjolras said smiling at Marius.  
  
"Noooo!" Marius cried. "They are the Republicans!" He pointed at the Friends of the ABC frantically.   
  
Bahorel gasped. "How dare you!"  
  
Joly clutched his chest. "Liar!"  
  
Marius looked panicked. "Courfeyrac, tell him!"  
  
Courfeyrac averted his eyes from Marius's pleading glance.   
  
"Jehan," Marius begged.  
  
"I assure you sir," Jehan said to Javert, "you will find no bigger royalist in France than my father."   
  
Javert gave the group a curt nod, and continued to drag Marius by the earlobe, until they were out of sight.   
  
Valjean who had pulled his coat up to cover his face as Javert had gone by, grinned. The day was certainly looking up.  
  
Cosette gasped and started to cry. "Poor Marius!" She sobbed. "Now we can't cuddle on our bench!"  
  
"You can't WHAT?" Valjean cried. So much for the day looking up...  
  
"I want my snugglebear!" Cosette cried dissolving into tears.  
  
The students had turned and were watching Cosette and Valjean. The older student shoved the one with light brown hair towards the two.   
  
"Here," he said laughing, "snuggle him."   
  
Cosette began to sob into the younger student's jacket front.  
  
"See? Prouvaire's very cuddly."   
  
"Bahorel, I loathe you." Prouvaire said, looking embarrassed beyond all adjectives.  
  
"Just how many college students have you been cuddling?" Valjean asked, rubbing his forehead.   
  
"Just Marius." Cosette said, somewhat muffled by Jehan's coat front.  
  
"And you are?" Valjean asked.  
  
"Jean Prouvaire." Jehan shyly stuck out his hand around Cosette.   
  
"He fell into our garden last week." Cosette said, still keeping a firm grip around Prouvaire. "And then he came and visited me yesterday, while I was waiting for Marius to come and cuddle."   
  
Valjean looked sick.   
  
Jehan looked sick too. "Please don't kill me." He pleaded. "Its all Marius's fault. He plagiarized my poetry and gave it to your daughter. Then he plagiarized Enjolras' speeches, and was just now..."  
  
"You forgot the part where you beat the snot out of Marius for stealing your work and calling it mediocre." Bahorel said. "That's the best part."  
  
Valjean suddenly liked this young man. "You beat the snot out of him, eh?"  
  
"Jehan's very emotional." Cosette said. And he was kind of nice to hug, she thought.   
  
"It was the mediocre comment." Jehan muttered.   
  
"How old are you?" Valjean asked.   
  
"Twenty-three."  
  
"On good terms with your parents?"  
  
"Usually."  
  
Valjean chewed on his lip for a second. The image of Marius's all too curly locks came to mind. "Do you curl your hair?"  
  
"No..." Jehan looked befuddled.   
  
"Would you snuggle with a man's teenage daughter on his own bench behind his back?"  
  
"Never." Jehan was not an idiot.  
  
"Want to marry my daughter?" Valjean thought that this might be the easiest way to get rid of his wayward daughter...matrimony.   
  
Enjolras' jaw dropped. "What?"  
  
"Yea!" Cosette clapped her hands. "I get to marry my new snugglebear!" She squeezed Jehan tightly.   
  
Jehan had turned an interesting shade of gray. "Joly, tell me, what does a heart attack feel like? I'm fairly certain I'm having one right now..."   
  
"Well, how about it?" Valjean asked.  
  
"Sir, I barely know Cosette." Jehan said, attempting to gently peel her off of his jacket front.   
  
Enjolras frowned. "If Marius costs me one of my lieutenants," he began, in a tone that suggested he was about to orate.  
  
"Oooh!" Cosette ran over and hugged the stuffing out of Enjolras. "You're the one who wrote those wonderful speeches!"   
  
"Woman! Get off me!" Enjolras cried, struggling to get away from her.   
  
"He's so masterful!" Cosette said snuggling closer to him.  
  
"I can't believe she's hugging Enjolras." Bahorel said, wide-eyed.  
  
"I can't believe she doesn't care that he's yelling like that." Joly said, stunned.  
  
"I can't believe I'm jealous." Jehan said. Two minutes ago he would have given anything to have her stop hugging him.   
  
Enjolras was trying to shake Cosette off of him. "Let go!" He cried. "I am most certainly not a snugglebear!"  
  
Valjean went over and tried to drag Cosette away from Enjolras. "But I love him Papa!"   
  
"You also claimed to love Marius and Jehan." Valjean said.  
  
"Oooh, poor Marius. My poor, plagiaristic, errant, cuddle-puddle." Cosette's eyes filled with tears as she looked hopefully from Jehan to Enjolras.   
  
Enjolras sighed. Apparently if he didn't somehow get Marius out of prison, either he or Jean Prouvaire would end up wedding Cosette. "All right, all right." He sighed. "We'll get your cuddl-I mean, Marius out of prison."  
  
"Yea!" Cosette kissed him on the cheek.   
  
"He's the one who wanted Marius sent to prison in the first place." Jehan said, sulking because he didn't get kissed.  
  
Cosette slapped Enjolras.  
  
Enjolras rubbed his cheek and gave Jehan a look. "He beat the snot out of Marius." He said pointing at the poet.   
  
Cosette slapped Enjolras again.  
  
"Ouch! What on earth are you slapping me for?" He asked rubbing his cheek.  
  
"For wanting me to slap poor Jehan. After all, Marius did plagiarize his work." Cosette slapped Enjolras once again.  
  
"For pity sake Woman, why did you do that?" Enjolras cried, stepping away from Cosette.  
  
"I read those speeches you wrote and apparently you not only have a death wish for yourself, but also for your friends."   
  
"Hit him again!" Combeferre cheered.  
  
Everyone stared at him.   
  
"Well...she's right you know." He mumbled.   
  
"Enough of this nonsense!" Enjolras cried. "We are going to get Marius out of prison. He doesn't deserve to serve time for pretending to be one of us."  
  
"Besides, if he steps out of line again, Jehan can handle 'im." Bahorel said, pounding his fist into his palm for emphasis.   
  
Enjolras ignored that comment. "Joly, Jehan, Courfeyrac, I need you three to create some sort of diversion." Enjolras thought a moment. "And I need Bahorel and..." He continued droning on about his plan, but his friends were distracted.   
  
Cosette was running around and hugged the Amis. "Thank you, and thank you, and thank you, and...you can stop hugging me now M. Courfeyrac, and thank you, and thank you!"  
  
Valjean held his head in a vain attempt to soothe the throbbing pain that was centered behind his left eye.   
  
"Marius has good taste." Courfeyrac said cheerfully.  
  
"I met her first." Jehan pointed out.  
  
"Enough!" Enjolras cried. "We have bigger issues at hand than Cosette." He frowned. "Now, lets go rescue Marius."  
  
"If we must." Bahorel said with a little yawn.  
  
"Yes, let us rescue our wayward plagiarist." Courfeyrac assented, and with that the group began to leave.   
  
"As long as this plan doesn't involve going anyplace with mildew. Mildew makes my throat close off and my face swell up. I really cannot be exposed to mildew for anytime whatsoever." Joly said, rubbing his throat as he walked by Valjean.  
  
"Can we leave him there?" Bahorel asked as they turned a corner and went out of sight.   
  
Cosette looked up at her father. "Papa, shouldn't we try to help them somehow? We could get them rope, or maybe supply them with gunpowder, or maybe tell them that most jailbreaks are done in the evening, or..."  
  
Valjean tousled Cosette's hair. "Now, child, come now. You're just a woman, what earthly good could you be?"  
  
Cosette sighed. "Or maybe, I could sit at home, wringing my hands and perhaps work up a good swoon when the angst becomes too much for my feminine heart to bear?"  
  
Valjean beamed. "That's my girl."   
  
  
  
(Author's note: more to come soon!) 


	7. In and out of Jail

      Marius sniffled inside of his cell.  Not because he was crying, but rather because it was chilly and damp.  He sat on a straw pallet and wrapped his arms around his knees with a dejected sigh.  For some reason the prison guards thought it wisest to keep him away from the other prisoners, so Marius had the cell to himself.  

      He threw himself backwards on the mat and stared up at the ceiling.  Marius really hadn't counted on Enjolras going to the police.  And he really, really, hadn't counted on the police actually coming and arresting him.  

      Marius felt annoyed and cheated.  All he had really wanted to do was impress Cosette.  

      Ah! Cosette!  A drop of sunshine in this dismal place.  Marius sighed again.  He couldn't even take credit for that metaphor.  

  Everything Cosette liked about him was some element he had "borrowed" from one of his friends.  Cosette was in love with his friends, not Marius.  Marius sighed once more, enjoying his wallow through self-pity.

      "Pssst! Are you a murderer, a thief, or a plagiarist?" A voice softly called outside his window.

      Marius sat up and stared in disbelief at Bahorel's grinning, yet inverted face.  He was evidently hanging by his ankles from the roof in order to peer into Marius's cell.

      "Plagiarist." Marius said firmly.

      "Too bad, we're breaking out all of the thieves and murderers toni---Ouch! Stop that!"  Whoever was holding Bahorel had swung him into the iron bars that blocked Marius's window. "Alright, alright!" He muttered, taking some tools from his belt.

      "You guys are...getting me out?" Marius asked in disbelief.  

      "Yeah, yeah, we're a bunch of sweethearts, ain't we?" Bahorel said holding something in his teeth as worked with another tool.  

      "Well you're just doing what you ought to." Marius said with a frown. 

      "Pardon?" Bahorel stopped filing.  

      "I mean, it is your guys' fault I'm in here."

      "All right, hoist me up, fellows!  I can't stand him anymore." Bahorel said.

      "No!" Another voice from above called frantically, yet in the same soft tones.  "If we don't get him out, Cosette will end up splitting our group." A moment's pause.  "And I don't wanna marry her!"

      Yet another voice chimed in.  "I'll marry her."

      "That's because you have a poetry sodden brain." The second voice growled.  "You believe in love at first sight, that there is good in all people, your religious views make my head hurt, and...no...no...don't do that...Jehan, I'm sorry...stop...don't..."

      Bahorel twisted around from his unusual position and added.  "You forgot that he cries easily."  

      "What do you mean, Cosette will end up splitting the group?  And...and what is it you mean by saying you don't want to marry her and that you do?"  

      Bahorel saw an opportunity to thoroughly enjoy himself.  "Cosette finds Jehan rather sweet."  Grinning at Marius's furious expression he added, "But she is in a bit of a quandary...you see she also finds Enjolras masterful and quite the looker."  

       "Bahorel, what's wrong with you?!" Enjolras cried unseen from above. "Don't tell him that!"

      "Why not? Its true, isn't it?" Bahorel asked as he filed merrily on the bars.

      "She was distraught." Prouvaire said.  "You can't judge a person by what they do when they're distraught."

    "Well, I for one think she liked you a lot, Jehan." Bahorel said.

"Really?" There was no mistaking the pleasure in the poet's voice.

      Marius ran to the window and hissed angrily at the concealed young men.  "You both stay away from my Cosette!" 

      "Careful, you've seen how defensive he is about poetry, I shudder to think what would happen to the poor sap that got between him and his wom---Ow!" Bahorel was swung again into bars.  

      "Impressive aim, Jehan."  Marius commented.

      "It wasn't me, it was Enjolras."  There was once again a definite note of pleasure in his voice.  

      "I missed.  I was aiming for the mason work outside the window frame." Enjolras replied.

        Bahorel wasn't much fazed.  "I don't know why you're so stuck on Colette."

      "Cosette." Three voice corrected.

      "Whatever."

      "I just can't help it.  She's crazy about me."  Marius smirked.   

      "Yes, yes, we are all quite impressed by your prowess when it comes to impressing the ladies." Enjolras said.  "Bahorel, are you finished yet?"

      "Of course I am Enjolras.  I just like hanging upside down, its really quite entertaining." Bahorel rolled his eyes and continued filing.

      "Stop your backtalk and hurry it up then!" Enjorlas snapped.  

      "Yes, Mum."

      "Bahorel!" 

      "Ah-ha!" Bahorel had finally managed to remove the bars.  "You ought to be able to fit through there, Marius."

      Marius scrambled over to the window and allowed Bahorel to help hoist him up and out of his cell.  He gave the three a smile.  "Now doesn't it feel good to do the right thing?"

      Bahorel clenched his fist and hissed through his teeth.  He was trying his utmost not to lose his temper.  It was a valiant struggle, best appreciated by those who knew Bahorel best.    

      Enjolras was in too much of a hurry to reunite Marius and Cosette to care how Marius was acting.

      Jehan was furiously apologizing for his earlier actions.  "I am so sorry Marius.  I didn't even know I had a temper...that is no one in my family ever provoked me before...and none of my friends...not even Bahorel, so you can imagine my surprise at my actions."

      Marius scowled slightly.  "You should be sorry.  You could have seriously hurt me.  Do you know that I could sue you for-"

      "Aw for the love of..." Bahorel rolled his eyes and shoved Marius slightly, and the young lawyer tottered dangerously close to the edge of the roof.  "This is why I hate lawyers.  They aren't good for anything.  They're like mosquitoes: both suck blood.  If you don't stop it, I'll knock yer lights out."

      As Bahorel was easily a head taller than Marius, not to mention at least fifty pounds heavier, he thought it wisest not to annoy Bahorel any further.

      Enjolras grabbed Marius by the shoulder and steered him the proper direction.  "Lets get this over with.  The others can't keep the guards distracted forever."  

      Jehan and Bahorel both stifled giggles.  

      Enjolras looked at them.  "What on earth is your problem?"

      "Well...um...that is to say...the idea the girl came up with to distract the guards is..."

      "Unique." Bahorel supplied, and the two sniggered.  

      "It involves...ah..."

      "Grantaire."  Bahorel supplied again.

      Enjolras clamped a hand to his forehead.  "Oh dear G-"

      "That's right!" Bahorel said cheerfully.  "They've spent the past day getting him liquored up."

      "Oh, and I'm sure it was quite the struggle!" Enjolras said, rolling his eyes.

      "Actually," Jehan said, "with his tolerance to alcohol...it took quite the number of drinks." 

      "Wonderful."  Enjolras stopped and cocked his head to the side.  "What on earth is-"

      "I loves the girls 

       And I loves good wine.

       I loves good girls

       But I hates bad wine,

       Now my girl ain't pretty

       But at least she's mine!

       So I'll end my ditty

       If you'll pass me some wine."

      Grantaire, obviously three sheets to the wind was singing and passing around a bottle to the prison guards. The guards, not much more sober than Grantaire, were laughing so hard tears streamed down their cheeks.   

      "What sort of mind thinks up something like that?"  Enjolras asked, wrinkling his nose.

      "Kind of catchy, actually." Bahorel remarked humming along.  

      "Cosette will love it!" Marius said, making a mental note on the lyrics.

      "Haven't you learned anything?!" Jehan asked, obviously dismayed. 

      "Er…that is…Cosette will love the song that I myself compose for her." Marius lied, trying to avoid the poet's incredulous glance.  

      "Oh, well that's okay then.  Good for you, Marius."  Jehan said smiling.  

      "Yeah, and I have a bridge I'd like to sell you Jehan."  Bahorel remarked as he rolled his eyes.  

      "What would I do with a bridge, Bahorel?" 

      Bahorel was too stunned to respond.  He was used to Jehan's earnestness and at times naivety; so it wasn't the reply to his sarcasm that stopped him dead in his tracks.  It was a very pretty girl dressed as a boy looking utterly bewildered as she gazed around the alley.  

      "Cosette!" Marius cried.  Enjolras quickly clamped his hand over Marius's mouth.  

      "Shhh! Do you want to get caught?"

      Cosette looked up and saw them.  She smiled brightly.  "Oh! Hello again, Jehan, Marius.  Hi Bahorel.  Hi Enjolras." 

      Glowing with pleasure that his name had been mentioned first, Jehan waved cheerfully.  Marius was feeling somewhat sulky that his name had been mentioned second, and merely glared moodily down at Cosette.       

      "Marius, what's wrong, cuddle-puddle?"  

      Marius merely glared and turned his back to her.  

      "Fellows? What's wrong with Marius?" Cosette asked, as the others climbed skillfully off of the roof to join her.  

      "Well, he's moody for one thing.  Also, he has poor political views.  We think he curls his hair, and we know he doesn't bathe but bi-monthly.  He is unsympathetic to our cause, and he is unbelievably stubborn." Bahorel said in one breath.  

      Cosette blinked. "No…I meant…why is he still on the roof…er…pouting?"

      "He's jealous of Prouvaire."  Bahorel said grinning.  

      Enjolras looked up at Marius angrily.  "Get down off that roof this instant!" He snarled.  

      Cosette stared up at Marius.  "Well, gee, I can't imagine why I'm starting to look at other men!  Could it be that you are controlling, plagiaristic, and somewhat neurotic?"  

      "Yeah, Jehan is only neurotic."  Bahorel called up.

      "Shut it, Bahorel."  Jehan said mildly.  

      Marius sniffed and looked down at her.  "I should have known you were a 'loose woman'.  Ever since that day in the park, I saw your dress lift clear to your shin!  Tramp!" He added as an afterthought.  

       Cosette's eyes filled with tears.  "But…it was windy…the wind blew my dress up a bit…and I'm not a loose woman…or a…or a…"

      Bahorel supplied the last word.  "Tramp?"

      Cosette burst into tears, and started sobbing into Jehan's jacket front.  He patted her on the back sympathetically, yet in the back of his mind he couldn't help but thinking "Jean Prouvaire…human handkerchief."  

      "Oh sure, comfort your little trollop…" Marius was still feeling moody. "I don't know why I bothered copying those stupid verses of yours.  Bah." 

Marius fluttered his eyelashes and recited in painfully mocking tones, "_Your beauty warms me._  Puh. Drivel."  

He turned his glare away from a wounded Prouvaire to glare at Enjolras, "And those speeches? Please, who gives a flying fig about the destitute of France?  I'm not starving, so frankly, I don't care.  

      "Marius?  I'm coming up there to kick your butt up around your ears, so you might want to start running now." Bahorel said, as he hoisted himself up.

      "I wanted to just shoot him, but noooo." Enjolras muttered.     

      Cosette was attempting to comfort Jehan.  "He's just being a…well, being a lady I can't say what he's being right now.  Your verses are beautiful you know that.  Are you _crying_?"  She glared up at Marius and said to Bahorel, "Kick his—"

      "No…Ah'm not cr—cr-crying." Jehan sniffled. 

      Marius backed away from Bahorel his eyes wide with fear.  "I just wanted to impress you, Cosette! I love you!"

      "Manipulative little such-n-such, you really expect me to believe that?"  Cosette cried.  

      "Well, you're not the swiftest girl God ever gave breath to." Marius said.

      Enjolras looked up at the cowering Marius and then over at a very happy Jehan and Cosette.  He sighed.  

      "I like June weddings.  How about June 5th?" Cosette said to Jehan as she snuggled up to him.

      "Sounds great to me."  He replied.  "Enjolras, you'll be there, right?"

      Enjolras sighed again.  Something about this June wedding didn't seem right to him.  "Well, of course I'll be there."

      "Do ya, promise?"  

      "Well, yes, I swear that nothing could stop me from attending this wedding." Enjolras had that funny feeling again.        

      Marius looked down and his jaw dropped.  "You're getting married?!" 

      Bahorel grabbed him by the collar.  "You are too! Mademoiselle Marius, meet M. Fist." 

      While Bahorel was beating Marius into a pulp, the other three joined the rest of the group in the Café Musain.  The Amis, were of course thrilled by Jehan's good fortune.

      "June 5th? I'll be there."  Seemed to be the general consensus.

      "Lets go home and tell Papa!" Cosette cried.

      "Good idea.  Then we can write a nicely worded letter to my family."  Jean Prouvaire said.

      "Oh, don't worry, Papa can afford the wedding."  Cosette said hurriedly.  

      "Ah...yes...I should have mentioned this before but my family's financial situation is sort of..." He whispered something in her ear.

      Cosette's eyes grew very round.  "Oh my.  Really?  That much..."

      "Well, that's my yearly allowance.  When I become head of the family it will be substantially more than...Co?  Cosette?  Co?  Are you okay?"

      Cosette staggered.  "Its just that...you're cute, you're nice, and you're pardon the expression, dear, filthy rich.  Quite the package, and if you don't mind my asking, why the heck hasn't anyone snatched you up yet."

      Bahorel came up dusting off his hands.  "Because, he's shy!  Horribly shy!  Horrifically shy! So shy that he can't even look at most girls without breaking into a cold sweat and"

      "Bahorel, want to be best man at the wedding?"

      Bahorel glowed with pleasure. "Of course I do!" 

      "Then shut up."  

      "Sure thing, Kidd-o."  Bahorel tousled Jehan's hair.  

      Courfeyrac sighed.  "Well this has been an interesting month."

      Joly nodded.  "Jehan's getting married, Marius is..." he frowned.  "Bahorel, where is Marius?"

      Bahorel smiled innocently.  "I just gave him an attitude adjustment."  

      "Does he need medical attention?" Combeferre asked, somewhat concerned.  

      "Nah." Bahorel said sitting down beside Jehan.  

      Enjolras shook his head.  "Gentlemen…and Lady," he said addressing Cosette quickly.  "There is a lesson to be learned in all of this."  He frowned. "But I'll be darned if I know what it is."

      Cosette raised her hand. "Plagiarism benefits no one." She smiled.  "Ask Marius."

      "After he regains consciousness, I'm sure he'd agree with that." Bahorel said.  

      Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow.  "Thought you just said he didn't need medical attention, Bahorel." 

      "He doesn't.  He's not bleeding and he is breathing.  No medical attention needed."  Bahorel said.

       Enjolras waved his hand impatiently.  "So what have we all learned from this?"

      Courfeyrac rolled his eyes.  "Besides that Marius is a chump?"  

      "Besides that."

      "Besides that Cosette is a tad deeper than she first seemed?"

      "Yes, yes, besides that." Enjolras was getting annoyed.  

      "Well we learned that the prisons of Paris are deplorably guarded." Courfeyrac said, "But I really don't know where you're going with this, mon ami."

      Enjolras sighed heavily.  "We learned that..." He paused.  "We learned that..." Enjolras frowned and sighed once again.  "Actually, Cosette put it best."  He shook his head.  He had lost the attention of his friends anyway.  

      "Why does Bahorel get to be the best man, I thought I was your best friend!" Courfeyrac asked Jehan, looking miffed.

      "Look, my family probably won't be able to make it up in time, you guys will be the only ones filling my side of the church."  Jehan pointed out.  

      Courfeyrac frowned.  "Still it isn't the same."

      Cosette shrugged, and suggested.  "I need someone to help me with my train."

      Courfeyrac grinned.  "Ooo-kaaay."

      Jehan looked startled. "Cosette, there is something you really ought to know about Courfeyrac."  

      "But look how disappointed he was!  He was feeling left out.  Now I don't want to hear another word on the subject."

      "But..." Jehan sighed.  She'd find out soon enough.  


	8. The End?

            Eponine looked down in surprise at the prostrate figure in the alley.  "M. Marius!" She gasped.

            "Oh, hi Eponine." He groaned, staggering to his feet.  

            "What happened to you?"

            "I was put in jail and my friends broke me out…and then they beat me up."  Marius sniffled.

            Eponine was sympathetic.  Things like this were rather common in her family. She helped him regain his balance and patted him on the arm.

            "And my Cosette left me for another man."  He wiped some dirt off of his face with the back of his hand.

            "Aw, gee, that's too bad." Eponine brightened considerably.  

            Marius looked at Eponine for the first time.  "Hey, 'Ponine, would you, er perhaps like to grab dinner sometime?"  

            Eponine nearly swooned.  "Yes! Of course, I would!"  She smiled.  "You'll fit right in at home too.  Now that you're a criminal, Papa, can't object."  She paused.  "What did you get put in jail for anyway?"

            "A mixture of plagiarism and rabble-rousing."  

            Eponine frowned.  "Hmmm…we'll leave off the rabble-rousing part and tell 'em plagiarism is a really gruesome form of murder.  They'll love you!"  She clung to his arm, happy beyond belief.  

            "Wow! Can I really join your father's gang?" Marius asked.  

            "Don't see why not."  Eponine replied as they walked down the street arm in arm.  

            "I think this is the beginning of something wonderful, 'Ponine." Marius said, putting his coat over her bare shoulders.

            "Me too.  I can't stand my old boyfriend.  He's so jealous and vindictive.  I could do with a sweet fellow like you, M. Marius.  Why, just the other day, he knifed a guy for just looking at me." She chattered merrily about the details as the two turned the corner.   

            Marius whimpered.  


End file.
